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Whether in chrome surgery or gymnasium toilet— everyone is expelled bloody and bleating, tube attached from mass to mass, the slick itself turning vivid. Whether there or in this floor-through, Mother, I have missed you terribly— miss you, though I know about mothering myself. * This afternoon Madeline Carmichael, 61, was convicted of fatally beating…

At last she decided to speak to the moon. Having no other choice, she begged it to set her free. Why me, she asked, when others are content to sit on their haunches all night peering at your sullen face; or feel your granite pull beneath skin and obey, opening wave upon wave. When no…

Shadow of a bubble. Word, my world. One: it issues from a shadow’s mouth, shadow one carries where one goes. One goes alone and two go alone. Three: without the sun, there would be no picnic. No picnic, no shadow of a bubble. No word, no world. One: it issues from a shadow’s mouth, shadow…

In the new film, the subtitles make the picture blurry, but it is an old film. What is the same in any part of the world? A field. Trees at its edges. The figure approaching us. Inside, the plaster falls from the ceiling nightly. What is the other source of sound? The instrument was going…

In the shower linoleum then floorboards then earth in     which the depths please send me away but see she cannot leave the house see what     has been done is thorough like something a cloth has been rinsed in or used for tied across the eyes I have taken precautions leave no     address…

It was near here. In a street similarly shining, going to the movies, and when you asked your new acquaintance, what does [sic] mean? he left off quoting The Paradiso: “sic transit gloria mundi for example,” and you felt stupid— Then the Callery pears, fruitless clouds of urban bloom stood up. Other days lit, globed…

Everyone was happier. But where did the sadness go? People wanted to know. They didn’t want it collecting in their elbows or knees then popping up later. The girl who thought of the ponies made a lot of money. Now a month’s supply of pills came in a hard blue case with a handle. You…

The chair. The ice. The day in December when the chair was useful. Its broken seat. That, too, was what I offered up to you, but to what use. The light filled the curtains, the curtains conducted it into the room where they were talking, one standing near the chair, one smoking by the door….

Sometimes I touch the cleaner. Sometimes an hourly vole shares the bed and wife with me. Once I sat up suddenly and spoke it: crowned platelets inherit the passenger bin. I believe the precise moment of Rapture is felt not to occur, the Rind of Incidence I made up in the first place. On a…